


"I Don't Feel Good."

by IWillBeTheEndofYou



Series: The Domestic Lives Of Figure Skaters [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comfort, Earaches, Fevers, M/M, Pet Names, Sick!Fick, Unwell, Vulnerability, Yuri Plisetsky Needs a Hug, headache, kids should be allowed to be kids, sick kids are no fun, terms of endearment, the obligatory sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillBeTheEndofYou/pseuds/IWillBeTheEndofYou
Summary: The obligatory sick!fic. Yuri wakes up with an earache. Wasn't like he couldn't take care of it himself. But sometimes, it's nice to have someone do it for you. Isn't it?
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: The Domestic Lives Of Figure Skaters [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046686
Comments: 44
Kudos: 350





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The sick!fic. You know it. You love it. Here it is.  
> I was asked in a previous fic how old Yuri was meant to be. I suppose when I wrote it I had envisioned him as his canon age. He does tend to skew younger. Why that is, I'll leave that up to you. Is he younger? Does he feel safe being a little more vulnerable with Victor and Yuuri?

The room was still dark when he opened his eyes. He winced immediately, the pounding in his head quickly overtaken by the burning pain in his ear. Yuri wondered if this was what it was like to get stabbed in the eardrum, maybe. With a hot knife. He tried to roll over, close his eyes again, but the pain seemed to intensify when he moved his head.

Well, it shouldn't be hard to find some aspirin, he thought. Surely the piggy and the old man had tons of that around, for all the aches and pain that came with skating and falling. He crawled out of his bed and headed for the hall bathroom.

Yuri whimpered as he switched on the lights, his headache worsening. Daring a glance in the mirror, he was graced with a pale countenance, dark marks under his eyes. He headed for the sink first, splashing a little water on it. Then he pried open the medicine cabinet.

“Yurio? Whassamatter, sweetheart?” he jumped a mile. How did the piggy always manage to sneak up on him? He glared, putting a hand to his chest. Yuuri looked blurry and sleepy himself, hair mussed, no glasses.  
“Sorry, I learned to walk quietly at the bathhouse. Didn't want to disturb the customers. What's wrong?”

Yuri decided to let the 'sweetheart' slide. This time. Just because he was tired. Just because he was really starting to not feel good. He coughed into his elbow and sniffled.

“My ear hurts,” he mumbled.

“Mmm,” Yuuri hummed he shuffled into the bathroom, closer to the boy. He reached above him to the digital thermometer on the shelf, stuck it under his tongue, and shoved the boy gently to sit on the closed toilet lid.

It happened quicker than Yuri could protested. Yuuri put one hand on the back of his neck, rubbing comfortingly. He knew he should tell him to stop, tell him to get his grubby paws off him. But it did feel nice, he thought. Before he could think too hard, he was leaning into Yuuri's side, his eyes closed. The thermometer beeped, and was slipped from his mouth. The hand dropped to rub his upper back.

“38, huh?” he sighed. “Why don't I get you some medicine? You can go lay in my bed.” he offered.

“Don't wanna wake Vitya.” he murmured. He should shove the older man away. He should scoff and say he wasn't a child. He should say that he could get it all taken care of himself, if he'd just tell him where the stupid aspirin was.

“He sleeps like the dead.” Yuuri snorted. “Go lay down, baby, you look dead on your feet.”

Another term of endearment. At least this time, Yuri managed a scowl before shuffling towards the master bedroom. The kingsize bed looked inviting, with the fluffy blankets and Victor asleep, arms outstretched. He laid gently on the edge, closed his eyes, and tried to stifle the coughs that were rising in his chest.

In just a few moments, he felt what had to be a very lonesome octopus wrap itself around him and haul him backwards. He let out a very undignified squeak and found that octopus pressed against his back, warm and soft. Smelling like the expensive aftershave he loved, and a bit like hair product, and even the ice rink. But more importantly, the octopus smelled like safety. 

He should shove away. He should call Victor a creep. He should get out of bed and stomp away to his room, aspiring be damned. But... Victor was warm, and he was sleepily rubbing Yuri's side, his nose buried in his hair already.

“What's wrong, malyutka?” Victor mumbled with a yawn. He froze. Victor was never one to whip out a pet name. But it lit something inside him, something warm that made him want to lay very quiet and still.

“I don't feel good.” he whispered. Victor just rumbled thoughtfully and pulled him in tighter. The boy thought he'd enjoy it, just for a moment. Just because he didn't feel good. Just until he heard Yuuri's footsteps. It wouldn't do for the piggy to think he liked this treatment or anything. 

“Yurio?” a soft voice, another hand on his shoulder. He dragged his eyes open and blushed, seeing Yuuri sitting on the edge of the bed.  
“Here, sweetheart.” there was that phrase again. He wanted to get upset, but two pills were being slipped into his mouth. A straw was placed between his lips then, and he sipped to get them down. A nice hot towel was pressed to his sore ear, and he sighed instantly, grateful for some amount of relief.

He thought then that Victor would tell him to go back to bed, that they'd check on him in the morning. Or perhaps they'd let him sleep through morning practice and let him make it up in the evening. Instead, Victor only pressed a kiss to his temple, and Yuuri settled on his other side.

Like he was a little kid, sleeping between his parents. He wanted to shoved them away and shuffle to his own bed. He belonged in his own bed. Potya would be missing him, after all. Instead, his eyes were closing again. He curled into a tighter ball, reached for something, anything to hang onto. 

To Yuuri's surprise, the boy was clutching the front of his nightshirt. He shifted closer to him, carefully adjusted the towel again. He'd given him some fever reducer and run a quick Google. He wondered if it was a sinus infection, a cold, or even an ear infection. Either way, of course he didn't feel good.

He was at least a little happy, though. Not that Yurio was sick, of course. Just that the kid was letting him actually take care of him. He had been afraid that he would spend his time fighting about it. At least Yuuri knew he didn't need to worry so much if Yurio was letting him help.

The brunette nestled closer to the boy, pleased that he was asleep, even if his cheeks were pink and his skin looked dry. As he drifted off, he felt a hand come to reach for his. Without a thought, he laced his fingers through the ones seeking him. Long, delicate, fingers that he had come to love so well. Victor giving him a squeeze, their arms draped gently over Yuri.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy couch bed, and some soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Victor really likes House, MD. I'm not sure why.

Yuri woke when the sun was up. He shivered and sniffled, reaching for whatever had been keeping him warm throughout the night. It was Katsudon, a voice whispered in the back of his head. You cuddled with the piggy, and you were happy to do it. But he brushed that off, sure it was the fever talking.

Lifting his head caused the world to shift, making him feel nauseated. He groaned, his hand over his ear, still hoping to get rid of that stabbing knife feeling. Reluctantly, he peeled the blankets back. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the misery that seemed to cover him to go away.

“Malyutka?” Victor in the doorway. “You're awake. How do you feel?”

“With my fingers.” he grumbled. He coughed then, grabbed his head and winced. 

“I see,” Victor chuckled and walked into the room. “You've got Yuuri's mother hen up. He's making you soup in the kitchen.” he bent and pressed his lips to Yuri's forehead, letting them linger there for a moment.  
“You are warm.”

“Tell Katsudon I don't need soup,” he weakly batted the silver haired man away. “Just need more sleep.”

“Well, come into the living room and tell him yourself.” Victor helped hoist him up, and walked him to the living room, one hand on his lower back. Yuri wanted to grumble, wanted to shove him away. It was hard to walk, though, he felt so wobbly, and even a little dizzy. He coughed into his elbow, feeling the ripping sensation in his chest and throat. 

Victor murmured softly and rubbed his back, helping him to lay on the couch, which had been made into a very comfortable sick bed. With his own pillow and blanket, even. As soon as he laid down, he heard a small meow, and felt the weight of Potya laying down on him. He smiled, reaching down to pet the ball of fluff. At least that made some of it better.

Victor disappeared into the kitchen. There was the soft rumbling of voices, and the nearly muted television. Yuri let his eyes close, it helped with the headache, at least. He must have drifted back off, because when he swam back to the surface of consciousness, he felt a hand stroking back his hair.

A cool hand, soft and strong all at once, he leaned into that touch. The thermometer was slipped back under his tongue again, and the hand stayed in his hair. He was aware of the beeping and the unhappy grumble from whoever was sitting on the edge of the couch.

He turned his head then and coughed violently. The hand slipped behind his shoulders and helped him sit up.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Yuuri, then. “It's okay. I know, you feel gross.” he handed him a few tissues, and Yuri scowled as he blew his nose. He laid back down, feeling exhausted, his chest aching.  
“I made you some soup.”

“I don't want any,” he shook his head frantically.

“Baby, you have to eat before you can take more medication, and you need the medication for your fever.” Victor appeared with a frown.

“I don't want any.” he repeated. Somehow, he had the idea that this was going to be a losing fight. Sure enough, Victor was there, propping up the pillows and sitting Yuri up. 

“You don't have to eat all of it, or even a lot of it. But please,” he whispered in his ear. “Yuuri is upset, and it will make him feel better.”

He rolled his eyes as best he could manage. If it would get the piggy off his back, fine, he decided. He only gave one nod, and didn't bother to watch as Yuuri went to the kitchen. He came back with a tray, holding a steaming bowl and a glass of orange juice.

“Just a little bit, Yurio, please?” he set the tray on the boy's lap. Yuri glared. Yuuri flashed him some serious puppy eyes, and Yuri groaned.

“You're seriously pathetic.” he rasped, unaware until then how rough his voice sounded.

Yuuri apparently didn't care how pitiful he was, as he was visibly pleased at Yuri eating something. And the soup was good, he thought, with thick noodles and flavorful broth. He even felt a little bad that he couldn't finish it, and only a quarter of the bowl was gone before he stopped. The tray was taken away, and he was handed two more pills.

“Thank you, Yuri.” Yuuri cupped his cheek for a moment. “You did great.”

He blushed, and told himself the heat was from the anger at being coddled. He decided not to comment as he laid back against the pillows, Potya taking up residence on his lap, purring. He laid a hand on her again, grateful for the comfort she offered without the platitudes or the sweetness. 

He wasn't sure how to tolerate it. He wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that he even liked it, a little bit. While he was considering it, Victor came and silently lifted his legs, sitting on the couch and letting the boy's legs fall over his lap.

Yuri raised an eyebrow, and the older man gave him a grin, waggled the remote at him.

“It's time for my show.” he clicked on the television, and an America show Yuri wasn't familiar with came on. He squinted, and if he concentrated enough, he could make out that it was a medical show. Something about a doctor with a cane.

He didn't bother watching, letting his eyes close again. The sound was soothing enough. He marveled at how much he was sleeping. He'd managed to get by on six hours of sleep or so a night for years now, with naps stolen on trains and planes, in the passenger side of his Grandpa's car. He'd even been known to flop down on a bench at the rink and close his eyes for a little bit, pillowed on a duffel bag. At least he was laying down on a good and proper couch, with his kitty. 

Hours or days passed, and he felt himself being lifted up. He mumbled, his arms wrapping a neck.

“Grandpa?” he asked, hopefully. He knew it wasn't Grandpa, couldn't be. Not with his back. And Grandpa's arms were thicker than this, his shoulders broader.

“Shh, Yurochka. Be still,” this was at least his native tongue, and it made him feel that much safer. He clung to the body carrying him, fussed when he was set down and the body made to pull away from him.  
“I'm not leaving. I only want to get into pajamas pants. I'll stay with you, if you want me to, but you need to let me go for just a moment.” the voice wasn't scolding him, didn't sound mad, even. Reluctantly, he let go, removed himself from that sensation of being held and snuggled into the bed he was in.

It wasn't his bed, he knew that. But he couldn't bring himself to care. The body laid down in bed, propped itself on pillows and pulled Yuri in close. It was easier to breathe while pulled up on someone's chest like this, he thought, burrowing in. He cupped one palm against his ear, that hot knife feeling stabbing at him.

Lips against his forehead, lingering. The body against him was cool and much more comfortable than him.

“You're burning up.” 

“I'm sorry.”

“Shh, don't apologize. I'm sorry you feel so poorly, Yurochka. Can't we do anything that would make you feel better?”

Ripping his eardrum out might be a start, Yuri thought. He only slowly shook his head, aware of the dizzy sensation. A whimper escaped him before he could stop it. The body under him held him tighter, nuzzled him.

“Don't be upset, sweetness. You'll feel better tomorrow.” another hot towel was pressed to his ear, giving him some relief.  
“I should make you eat before I give you more pills.”

“I just wanna sleep.” he begged softly. 

“I know,” a hand at the back of his neck. “It's okay. Just rest, we'll figure it out later.” 

“Thank you, Vitya.” he mumbled, falling back asleep easily.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri takes care of Yurio for the evening.

“Trade with me.” Yuuri said, when it was finally late evening, nearly time for bed. Victor had been dozing uncomfortably on the bed, Yuri sprawled across his chest. The boy was sweating, almost whimpering in his sleep. 

“Go to sleep on the couch, my love. Everything is fine.” Victor said softly. Yuuri shook his head, sliding into the bed and arranging pillows behind his back.

“My turn, you go rest. I napped a little bit before I made supper. I thought it might be a long night.” he turned a bit pink. “I got worried, so I called Mom.”

“And what did Mama Katsuki have to say?”

“Sounds like an ear infection, and if his fever doesn't break, we might need to take him in. I can't see that going well for us.” he sighed. “So go and rest, and I'll stay up with him.”

Gingerly, like the boy was made of glass, Victor transferred him over to Yuuri's waiting arms. The brunette frowned to feel how hot the kid was, and the sweaty clothes. He knew he should rouse him, put him in the shower, then lay him back in bed. But the boy was sleep. He instead swiped at his forehead with the now cool towel that had been on his ear.

Victor looked reluctant, then left. He could hear him talking softly to Makka, taking her out for a walk. He flicked the bedroom television on, pulled him his favorite anime, left the volume on very low. Yuri didn't seem to notice. In fact, he nestled closer to Yuuri, his head on his chest. Yuuri stroked his hair, sighing at how the pretty blond tresses were in need of a wash, and the boy just seemed sick all   
over.

It wasn't too long before he stirred.

“Grandpa?” the voice was raw and so hopeful that it made his own heart hurt.

“Sorry, sweetheart, it's just me.”

“Katsudon,” Yuuri only hummed in agreement, rubbing small circles on his back. 

“You're pretty sick, kiddo. You wanna take a bath? Might make you feel better.”

“No,” he murmured, sounding so small and fragile that Yuuri had to resist hugging him tighter. 

“I gotta get your fever down, baby, or you'll need a doctor.” that seemed to get his attention. He glared at him, his lovely green eyes rimmed in red.

“No doctor,”

“Then work with me.” he begged. “I'll run a bath, you sit for just a little bit, eat a tiny bit, and take more medicine.” he suggested. Yuri contemplated it for a second.

“Where's Vitya?”

“He's been with you all day, I sent him to rest. You're stuck with me.” he rumpled his hair, slightly relieved with he got a half hearted glare for his trouble.  
“Would you rather he give you a bath?”

“Not a baby.” he muttered.

“No one said you were. But you need to bring your fever down, and we're running out of options. So. A bath?”

“Whatever,” he peeled himself away from Yuuri, crinkling his nose at how very gross his felt. Yuuri went to the ensuite, and filled the tub with water just this side of lukewarm. He fetched a towel, then lead the boy in.

“Do you need—help?”

“No,” he snapped, then broke into a coughing fit. He groaned when it was over, angry that it hurt and angry at the look he was getting from Yuuri.  
“I can do it myself.”

“All right, Yurio. I'll get you some clean pjs from your room, okay?”

Once he was gone, and the door left cracked, the blond stripped out of his clothes. It was nice to get those off, at least. He sank into the tub, gasping at the chill. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the water wasn't cold. He was just hot.

The door opened shortly, and an arm dropped in a pile of clothes.

“I'm warming you some food, Yurio.”

“Fine!” the arm left. He let his head fall back, soak in the water. He washed it quickly, didn't bother to let the conditioner sit like it should. Once it was rinsed enough, he grabbed a washcloth and tried to scrub up as best he could. 

When Yuri went to dress, he found that he didn't have his own clothes there. It was one of Victor's workout shirts, soft and smelling like fabric softener. A pair of the piggy's shorts, black and loose. At least it was his own underwear. He turned scarlet, not liking the thought of Yuuri going through his drawers and touching his underpants.

When he walked out, Yuuri was sitting on the edge of the bed, with a large mug of broth. He offered it, and Yuri accepted, sipping a little. He stared at the television, his eyes glassy, until he handed the half mug bag to Yuuri, having taken all he could. He was given a few more pills. He swallowed them mindlessly.

“Do you want to go sleep in your bed?”

He should agree. He should huff away and flop into his bed, taking his pillow and blanket with him. He found himself shaking his head. He bit his lip, and Yuuri looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“Will you stay with me?” he muttered.

Yuuri didn't answer verbally, just made himself comfortable on the bed and opened his arms. Yuri hated himself for sliding into him, head resting on his chest. Yuuri let him nuzzle in, and bit back his laugh. Yuri was like a cat, and acted like the fact that he was cuddling with you was some sort of cosmic coincidence, he didn't really intend to and he would only enjoy it if he had to, he guessed. 

“I'm sorry you don't feel well, baby.”

It was so sincere. He meant it, Yuri could tell. Yuuri wasn't sorry because there was a sullen kid in his bed. He wasn't bothered because he was having to sit up with him, instead of sleeping with his husband. He was legitimately He bit his lip, buried his face in Yuuri's neck. The older man rubbed his back and let him cuddle close. 

“I'm sorry it's a lot of work to take care of me.” Yuuri froze.

“It's not work.” Yuuri assured him. “It's never work.”

Who had ever put that thought in this kid's mind? He wanted to fume. Instead, he kept rubbing his back, hoping he was sending sweet, gentle vibes. Anything to settle him. The pills and the fever seemed to help him drop off the rest of the way, and Yuuri settled in for a rather uncomfortable night being a mattress for a sick kid.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuri leave no room for argument.

“We've done the bath, we've done warm liquids, we've done the medication.” Yuuri's voice was hushed, and he cupped a hand over Yuri's exposed ear. He was only half awake, and only half listening, really.  
“I'm out of ideas.”

“He's miserable,” Victor agreed. “I called Nikolai, he said to take him in.”

“No,” Yuri rasped, raising his head. 

“Yes,” Victor's voice was calm and steady, but it did not leave room for argument. Well, let it never be said that Yuri didn't rise to a challenge.

“I am not going. It's my body, and I'll decide if I feel sick enough.” his words were broken by a deep, dry cough. His stance might have gone over better if that hadn't happened. The two older men exchanged a glance.

“It is your body.” Yuuri agreed. “But Grandpa is trusting us to help take care of it.”

“Don't patronize me!” he tried to scramble off the bed. “I am not going, I'll be better tomorrow.”

But Yuuri's arms were strong, and he was weak from the fever and probably dehydration. He held him tight. Yuri whimpered again, collapsing into his chest. He rubbed his back, just between the shoulder blades and shushed him.

“Are you scared, sweetheart? Is that it?”

“I hate the doctor.” he rasped out. He didn't have words for it. He should be old enough to deal with it. But he just felt so gross, and his ear was killing him, and this headache didn't help. And he wanted to breathe without coughing. He clutched Yuuri's shirt, feeling shameful, hot tears spilling from his eyes.

“I know, I know.” Yuuri was standing up as though the kid weighed nothing. “It's okay.” He had managed to get shoes onto Yuri and a jacket around him before he knew.  
“Do you want me or Victor to go with you?”

“Neither!”

“Then we'll both go.” Victor said smoothly, putting his keys and phone in his pocket.

“Can you walk or do you want me to carry you?”

Yuri would just die if someone saw him getting carried to the car. He wriggled out of the piggy's arms, stamping his foot as he did. Victor and Yuuri ignored it, leading him out of the condo, and down to the car. 

He slouched in the backseat, arms crossed over his chest. He glowered with as much strength as he could must when Victor glanced at him in the rear view. He wasn't sure how much heat it held, being that neither of them even flinched. It wasn't a very long ride, and he was ushered into the waiting room and then the exam room shortly.

Yuuri wasn't much help, as the doctor spoke Russian. By the time he came in, Yuri was laying flat on the exam table. Katsudon was standing by his side, carding his fingers through his hair. It felt nice, even if the kid would never admit it out loud. 

The doctor finally examined in, and Yuri bit his lip when he stuck the light in his ear. The doctor grumbled and tutted, finally handing Victor a script. Yuri caught 'antibiotics' 'rest' and something about infections. But all he wanted was to go back home, back to bed.

His bed? Or bed with the piggy and the old man? A hissing voice asked in the back of his head. He tried to brush it away. He drifted off in the car, waited in the backseat while Victor ran into the pharmacy. He was almost asleep when they parked, roused awake by a hand on his cheek. He let himself be walked inside, almost asleep on his feet.

“Wait,” he grabbed Yuuri's wrist when they were in the hall, heading towards the bedrooms. “Could I, um, for just one more night, uh...” he swallowed hard. “Couldn't I sleep with you?”

“If you take your medication with no bickering and eat the whole cup of soup.” Victor cut in. “Then yes, Yurio.”

Let it never be said he didn't drive a hard bargain. Yuri sat on their bed, begrudgingly drank the small cup of soup and swallowed the pills he was given. He laid down right after, curling into a tight ball. Victor laid beside him, an arm tossed over him, watching his show.

“You have to take the medicine for ten days. Please don't give me or Yuuri a hard time, malyutka.” Yuri made a noncommittal noise and scooted closer to him. Victor laughed softly as he bundled the kid closer to him. 

“Vitya?” he knew that he sounded small, bordering childish. His guardian looked down at him with an expression that was uncomfortably close to fondness.

“What, Yurochka?”

“Thank you,” he focused on Victor's shirt, rubbing a bit of it between his fingers. He couldn't bring himself to look the older man in the eye.

“The pleasure is mine.” he said softly, kissing Yuri on the forehead. “Everything is going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks for reading! I have a few more ideas for this series.
> 
> 1\. Yuri getting injured skating.  
> 2\. Yuri getting caught sneaking out/running away  
> 3\. Yuri getting harassed by paparazzi/hecklers maybe.


End file.
